Never Again
by Plastic Emotion
Summary: For the loyalty of his master, Cortez paid the ultimate price. A Plastic Beach story.  Oneshot


Never Again

Summary: For the loyalty of his master, he paid the ultimate price.

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He thought he could handle it: he and his minion. His counterpart. His companion. The trip to the beach was trying, chased night and day on land and sea, all until the fog cloaked their tracks and engulfed them in safety. It protected them in shrouded darkness, and for this, they were thankful. They had few belongings, though much was not needed to please the king. A bit of food, a tune of song, and a skimp of clothing, and even that was generously denied from time to time. This was their land, and together they would rule with an iron fist. The boat was rickety, the smell of must and clams an overbearing attack to the nose, but it wasn't anything they couldn't handle. They had both experienced much worse than that. And in all honesty, it was a rare refresher from all the odd scents life had been throwing at them. Near death experiences few humans were familiar with. To experience them within a short amount of time, even less so.

But they trusted each other, and with that trust came pride, courage, and greed. Who else could possibly fulfill the ideas lurking within their minds?

None else.

And when the boat docked, it was beautiful. Morning had just broken through, taking its time to stretch the rays along the shivering waves, tickling them with loving warmth. The only love Mother Nature could offer to her child. And in this realm of light and shadow, they snuck between the gap, scurrying away like roaches to the flick of a lamp. Time was limitless now. They were free.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. To keep track would only scuffle the mind, filthy up the thought process. They needed absolute perfection. But they were alone. Not for long, he planned, but work still needed to be done, and in that moment, company could wait.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

He accepted the ruffle of feathers against his ear as the best answer he was going to get. Behind him the glass door slowly slid shut, his fingers pinched between the slot and its path while he gazed out at the priceless view before him. He would have imagined a world where the weight of money held the most power and how it held a bounty over everything in it, but no. That just wouldn't do. It couldn't fit the view just off the balcony. It never would. Releasing a soothing sigh, the middle aged man took a few steps, lean and careful, all the way to the end of the walkway where the rail was waiting for him to press against. He ran his thumb along the cool metallic of the bar, eying his pure white jeans shoved recklessly into a pair of dirty brown buckled boots. It would have to do. He wasn't much prejudice against articles of clothing just because they were soiled. He could care less. But they oddly reminded him of the bit of land he was residing on. A real piece of work it was…all riding on the filth of the world. A magnet for pollution, and it still managed to look alluring. A small smile perked along his lips. Well then…he and the island were one and the same.

A rough caw woke him from his stupor, a brow arching in reply. A twitchy clawed foot poked out as he felt the soft weight of the bird bounce on his shoulder before it settled down once more, nestling against his neck with a gentle rumble in its throat. Most would question this behavior, or wonder how he managed to train it so well, but to those foolish enough to believe in such things, he would merely laugh and be on his way.

"It's the 'orizon, Cortez. Not much luck seein' _that_ in Kong, but…"

He trailed off, simply admiring the sight before him. If only he could capture the rays of the sun…how they bounced and shimmered along the blanket of waves…how they broke into the sky one by one…how the colors leaked forth, stretching as far as the eye could see. Cotton candy clouds pierced with beams of violet and cerulean blues. Oranges and lemons blotching the sea directly down its juicy center. Scarlet making love to navy. Pinks throbbing the freshly gemmed skies, and then…the stars. His eyes trailed along all of this as his friend remained quiet, peering out at the mystical vision. Never had they looked out into the sea in all the time they knew one another. Such things had never been heard of…thought of…dealt with. But now, they had time to spare. Even if just for a few moments.

And soon enough they were wrapped in what they each new best. The darkness fell over the island like a warm blanket, kinder and gentler than they last remembered it. It left a pleasant feeling settled in the very base of their souls, and he knew they would sleep well that night. Scratching a few untrimmed nails through the drowsy bird's feathers, he gently smiled, knowing for certain things would turn out exactly as he dreamed them to be. His graying hair shuffled a bit when a warm breeze swept through, tickling the palm trees that managed to grow on the polluted isle. He nodded slowly in approval before tucking the bird away in his arms, keeping close to the shadows before disappearing inside his domain.

Months turned to years, and years turned to memories. Who was keeping track? Not he, but he did know it was going to be time. Time to gather the rest. Time to complete the dream.

**SMACK**!

Another giant palm. He threw it to the side, rolling his eyes with a grunt. The wind had been picking up lately. Weather could only be estimated day by day. How long had he depended on such technologies? Shaking his head, the man rubbed his nose, scribbling down in his tiny notepad. It was a rather flimsy thing, but the best among his limited choices on the island. He tucked the broken pencil along the crook of his ear, dragging debris from the shore to the rocks further back. These bloody winds were going to be the death of him _and_ the trees if they kept at it. He only feared the worst for the windows of his new beloved home. Any massive gust from a storm could swipe up any garbage and crack the sheet straight through. The best course of action he figured was to simply store the heaviest, most dangerous items, and tuck away the rest in a small rocky cavern just below the steps of his dock. Straightening up to a cracking back, he dusted himself off, rubbing the grimy oil off from his hands onto his sand sprinkled shorts. It was a wonder how a car engine managed to make it all the way to his island, but he would take what he could get. He was quite sure he could use the parts for a rather sensitive project he had in mind. The threads along his torn jean halves tickled along his legs as the sand morphed in masses with the tug of wind threatening his home.

"Ugh…look at tha' sky…it'll be comin' down any time now…"

His eyes shifted up at his villa on the rocks.

"Never 'ad to use shutters in Kong, an' God knows wot wos waitin' for us out there…ridiculous." he muttered, shoving another palm into a tightly packed pile he had stacked right under the steps. A friendly caw drew his attention from his work, gazing up at the circling fiend as it did its best to keep up and beat out the enhancing winds, but soon enough it grew tired, and settled down on its master's shoulder, cawing once more. "Gunna 'ead in soon, Cortez. Storm's a foot. Do me a favor an' just check the perimeter for any metals or anythin' tha' can be a potential window breaker. Don't worry about any palms. 'urry."

A minute passed before the bird returned, albeit a bit flustered. It found the man scribbling down in his notepad once more, glancing around before nodding and noting away. Words the bird was unfamiliar with; however, next to each one was a vague scribble of the mechanical treasures the man had found, along with a crude drawing of what looked like inner mechanics. Aside from fixing up the geep that would break down on occasions, and the faithful Winnebago, the bird was unaware of any other tinker talents the man possessed, nor understood the meaning behind each hum he would sing before tilting his head to scribble down his thoughts. But now was not a time for doodles and words. Cawing loudly in his ear, the bird gripped down hard on the man's shoulder, assuring him that all was as best as it could be to their maximum limits. "Awright, let's get-"

He froze as the light rain began to descend upon them, but could not believe the power the wind had over him. It thrust him back, yanking the tiny pad from his hands, the pencil a forgotten memory in the sea. "Oye! FF-wait! 'ang on!" he yelled out, slamming his bare feet into the whipping sand mounds, but the notepad seemed to be as light as air, as if someone or something were controlling it to simply tease him. His eyes darkened as it gave a chase, but all color drained when it gusted over the water. He was thigh deep before he realized how far he had gone out, but was no closer to grabbing it than the sunset all those weeks ago. His eyes gave out the beacon of hope for future dreams, paled in pride for the worship to come, dimmed of even moving from his glued placement, mouth slightly ajar with his arm out in question.

And the bird flew.

It refused to allow its master to succumb to such a replaceable object. But the ideas…and the future each page had…what could they have meant? For the man to race against Mother Nature at her worst? The world seemed to be eaten up by the savage clouds thundering threateningly overhead. The rain had thickened, drenching its master, but it glided through the air, cutting through any water daring to pelt it wet. Fine. It would retrieve the notepad. Perhaps it was all part of the plan? He always discussed the plan with him…what secrets could it hold? Why was he holding them? It would soon find out.

Further and further the bird flew, ignoring his owner's yells to come back, searching desperately for that little notepad. And back on the island, the man couldn't help but grab fistfuls of his hair before charging up the dock unto the somewhat safety nook along the doors of his home. "Cortez, leave it! Get back 'ere now! _Cortez_!" He wiped his face free from the excess droplets trailing down, poking his head out for any sight of his beloved friend, but searching for a speck of black in the darkness proved more difficult than a blue sparkle of glitter among a jar of greens. "Cortez!" he cried out, but the winds grew even stronger, nearly wiping him off his feet and cutting his voice in half. It wasn't like the bird to disobey or commit to something so treacherous. Running his hands through his hair, the man glanced over his shoulder at the doors behind him. He needed to get to safety soon, the piles he had stacked were already breaking free…but, he wasn't going to leave his bird. He couldn't.

But as he peered out into the sea, where sky kissed water and he couldn't tell them apart…he saw something.

Not a bird…nor a man…not a whale…or a boat…but something…just something.

It sat perched along a sharpened slate of metal, floating calmly in a world of torrent. It was watching him with unblinking eyes, goggled behind a mask of plague, cloaked in the darkness the man knew so well. So unlike the darkness of his Plastic Beach. So very much like the one of Kong. It tilted its head ever so slightly, emotionless as it hooked its gnarled thumbs and twitched the rest of its fingers into three flaps, curling them back into its massive cloak. The man suddenly grew very angry, every hormone in him pulsing without second thought, every beat in his chest relaying in his ears. "WHERE IS 'E?" he managed over the charging winds and rushing waters, "WOT THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

But the creature remained silent and merely dug into his cloak, flicking something out before disappearing altogether with the wave that crashed over him, though the mist grew black around it. Rushing down, he ignored the fact that there were wind tunnels where there shouldn't be…rain falling straight down instead of south, as the wind directed…clouds caving in all around instead of staying in the sky where they should be. His focus was solely on the trinket the something had dropped…washing up against the shore of his beach. The flow of emotion, or lack of it, was indescribable to the man, unable to know how to feel, or what he should feel. Very slowly his back curled down, pinching the small treasure from the sand to gaze at it in silence while the world crashed around him. And off in the corner of his eye, he could see the little notepad waterlogged, but ashore, crumpled along the few rocks guarding his property.

He often wondered if that day had ever occurred, merely time playing with his mind. He _had_ been alone for a very long time. There was no doubt this could have played a part in the memory loss…or stories he created to fill the holes. Sometimes he'd find himself calling out, requiring a quick reprimand to bring him back to par. There would no longer be an answer waiting for him. Never again.

His eyes trailed along the view before him, and as beautiful as he had once claimed it was…he simply didn't care anymore. His arms lazily hung over the railing, held out from his body as he pressed his knee into the bars, ignoring the irritating pressure the action caused him. Between his fingers, the lone feather that…boogeyman…had dropped. That's what he had decided to call it. The spawn of nightmares and enemy of hope. He couldn't help but ponder on that creature. Wonder if the storm was a set up. If it all even happened…

A deep sigh.

The multicolored eyes fell on the thin remnant of his old friend. Gone forever. He wasn't coming back…no matter how long he was willing to wait. He had to move on. There was work to be done. The clump in his throat was difficult to swallow, but it had to be done. Turning on his heel, the man ducked inside his home, marching to the desk of his new study where all the work was spread out on the very top. He dropped wearily into his seat, popping open the little notepad in thought. The bird had been a strong one. Its sacrifice would not be in vain. His fingers felt each swollen page, eyes marking every tool he would require. Time consuming…but he would complete it, perfection to the very last bolt. He would accept no less…and was willing to trade his sanity for it. Gone…forever…never again…Shaking his head, the man stared once more at the feather in his grip, fresh and vibrant as the stormy day he found it. Gently, he tucked it into his ink holder, a small smile in memory before it faded away. Heaving into his hand, the man ran his crooked fingers through his hair, peering along the papers he was leaning on. Lyrics…pictures…notes…

"Need to find 2D…"

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**Author's Note**: Probably the quickest piece I've ever done. The urge came to me after sketching all night, which was odd considering I was tired and my hand was cramped. Then I was worried I wasn't going to like what I wrote when I reread it, but I found it decent enough. Descriptive enough to get out a whale of a tale without snagging into my writing time for my other fics. I felt like I was the only one who noticed Cortez has been completely absent from the Plastic Beach phases, but my friend noticed it as well when I brought it up. And since Murdoc had many pictures with Cortez, I felt them to be closely bonded...and then boogeyman came along.

Thinking about making a Plastic Beach series of mini one shots, humor being the general aim. Sound good? No? Yes? I'm curious of what readers would enjoy.


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